


Veiled in Vintage Thorns

by ladyofstardvst



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Character Study, I DONT KNOW ok, Minor Angst, basically just them discovering each other and falling in Deep Like at First Sight, let! them! be! happy!, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst
Summary: eyes are the windows to the soul // a character study of sorts on our beloved Art Project.
Relationships: Jordan/Declan Lynch, art project - Relationship, declan x jordan
Kudos: 9





	Veiled in Vintage Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> boy howdy have i wanted to write about the love of my life declan lynch for AGES. 100/10 would die for my art nerds.

“ _My body is a haunted house that I am lost in. There are no doors but there are knives, and a hundred windows.” // Jacqui Germain_

They say eyes are the windows to the soul.

If one simply looked, they would say that Declan Lynch had a soul, yes, but they would say nothing more. They would say nothing less. If an acquaintance simply looked, say, during a casual conversation, they would see a soul full of contentment and the well crafted life of a liar.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but only those who know how to look, see the soul itself.

When she simply looked, she saw what he wanted her to see, which was what he wanted _everyone_ to see. When she _looked_ , when she dug, when she scratched through the surface caked in mud and dullness and layers of grey, grey, _grey_ walls upon walls upon walls – she saw _something_.

Something else. Something real. Something _other_. And something sad.

Underneath the grit and grime and black market music, behind those darling blue, blue, _blue_ eyes, she saw crystalline dreams glowing bright in high noon sunlight. Rainbow fractals ricocheted off the delicately painted walls, the murals of glamour and taste and knowledge. Details hidden in-between the lines, living deep within a dream painted in neon, neutrals, glow in the dark mixed media materials. Unconventional. Messy. _Real_. The ocean glimmered deep and dark and inviting in the background, hopes and desires and everything so very much _him_ lingered in the foreground screaming _see me, see me, see me-_

It made her blood bloom and cheeks flush pink peony, rose red, all the way up to her bright, wide eyes when she was alone, and when she thought of him.

She shattered like the walls she broke down, the ones he _let_ her break down.

His eyes are drip, drip, dripping with the mercy of a soul laid bare.

Trust, hangs in the air between them. Unspoken, questioning, willing.

Welcoming.

Waves broke, crashed over her frozen warm in the moment.

Drenched Declan in every single place that it mattered most.

Time slipped away, and she forgot to breathe, forgot _how_ to breathe, because when she was busy soul searching beyond the depths of those entrancing blues – he was doing a deconstruction of _Jordan_ all on his own.


End file.
